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And thrice he claspde her to his breste,
And kift her tenderlie:

The teares that fell from her fair eyes,
Ranne like the fountayne free.

Hee mounted himselfe on his fleede fo talle,
And her on a faire palfraye,

And flung his bugle about his necke,
And roundlye they rode awaye.

All this beheard her owne damfelle,
In her bed whereas fhee ley,
Quoth fhee, My lord fhall knowe of this,
Soe I fhall have golde and fee.

Awake, awake, thou baron bolde!
Awake, my noble dame!

Your daughter is fledde with the Child of Elle,

To doe the deede of fhame.

The baron he woke, the baron he rose,

And callde his merrye men all:

"And come thou forth, Sir John the knighte, Thy ladye is carried to thrall.”

Fair Emmeline fcant had ridden a mile,

A mile forth of the towne,

When she was aware of her fathers men

Come galloping over the downe:

And foremost came the carlish knight,
Sir John of the north countraye:
"Nowe flop, nowe flop, thou false traitoure,
Nor carry that ladye awaye.

For fhe is come of hye lynage,

And was of a ladye borne,

And ill it befeems thee a falfe churles fonne
To carrye her hence to fcorne."

Nowe loud thou lycft, Sir John the knight,
Nowe thou doeft lye of mee;

A knight mee gott, and a ladye me bore,
Soe never did none by thee.

But light nowe downe, my ladye faire,
Light downe, and hold my feed,
While I and this difcourteous knighte
Doe trye this arduous deede.

But lighte now downe, my deare ladye,
Light downe, and hold my horfe;
While I and this difcourteous knight
Do trye our valours force.

Fair Emmeline fighde, fair Emmeline wept,

And aye her heart was woe,

While twixt her love, and the carlish knight Paft many a baleful blowe.

The Child of Elle hee fought foe well,
As his weapon he wavde amaine,
That foone he had flaine the carlish knight,
And ladye him upon the plaine.

And nowe the baron, and all his men
Full fast approached nye:

Ah! what may ladye Emmeline doe?
Twere nowe no boote to flye.

Her lover he put his horne to his mouth,
And blew both loud and fhrill,
And foone he faw his owne merry men
Come ryding over the hill.

"Nowe hold thy hand, thou bold baron,
I pray thee, hold thy hand,
Nor ruthless rend two gentle hearts,
Faft knit in true loves band.

Thy daughter I have dearly lovde

Full long and many a day,
But with fuch love as holy kirke
Hath freelye fayd wee may.

O give confent, fhee may be mine,
And bleffe a faithfulle paire:
My lands and livings are not small
My house and lynage faire:

My mother fhe was an erles daughter,
A noble knyght my fire-

The baron he frownde, and turnde away
With mickle dole and ire.

Fair Emmeline fighde, faire Emmeline wept,
And did all tremblinge stand:

At lengthe fhe fprange upon her knee,
And held his lifted hand.

Pardon, my lorde and father deare,
This faire yong knyght and mee:
Truft me, but for the carlish knyght,
I ne'er had fled from thee.

Oft have you callde your Emmeline
Your darling and your joye;
O let not then your harsh resolves
Your Emmeline destroye.

The baron he ftroakt his dark-brown cheeke,

And turnde his heade afyde

To whipe awaye the ftarting teare,

He proudly ftrave to hyde.

In deepe revolving thought he stoode,

And mufde a little space;

Then raifde faire Emmeline from the grounde, With many a fond embrace.

Here take her, child of Elle, he fayd,

And gave her lillye hand,

Here take my deare and only child,
And with her half my land:

Thy father once mine honour wrongde
In days of youthful pride;

Do thou the injurye repayre
In fondneffe for thy bride.

And as thou love her, and hold her deare,
Heaven profper thee and thine:
And nowe my bleffing wend wi' thee,
My lovelye Emmeline.

LITTLE MUSGRAVE AND LADY BARNARD.

A

S it fell out on a highe holye daye,

As many bee in the yeare,

When young men and maides together do goe

Their maffes and mattins to heare.

Little Mufgrave came to the church door,

The priest was at the mafs,

But he had more mind of the fine women

Then he had of our Ladyes grace.

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